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You have probably read or heard my dad and me say a hundred times that "clouds are your friends" when you are out making photographs. Well, today the proof is in the pudding. This scene of the Lost Lake Island at Ludington State Park is a beautiful sight every day of the year, but the spectacular clouds today took the view from good to great. F5 at 1/640, ISO 100, 18-50mm lens at 18mm

My dad and I try to position ourselves at dynamic angles to our photograph's subject. In this photograph, look at the triangles that are created throughout the composition. By placing the jetties at a dynamic diagonal on the left side of the image, it creates a more powerful and three-dimensional look and feel. F7.1 at 1/20, ISO 100, 18-50mm lens at 20mm

The 1004-foot-long Edwin H. Gott steams past Round Island Light in the Straits of Mackinac. The 105-foot wide Great Lakes freighter is capable of carrying a 74,100-ton cargo of taconite or other materials. F4 at 1/3200, ISO 100, 14-24mm lens at 14mm

My dad and I try to position ourselves at dynamic angles to our photograph's subject. In this photograph, look at the triangles that are created throughout the composition. By placing the jetties at a dynamic diagonal on the left side of the image, it creates a more powerful and three-dimensional look and feel. F7.1 at 1/20, ISO 100, 18-50mm lens at 20mm

Round Island Light Near Mackinac Island

Only a few times in more than 50 years of photographing the natural beauty of Michigan have I felt so humbled, so awe-struck, by a scene before me than I did while making this image. Witnessing the Northern Lights above Lake Michigan the evening of December 14, 2006, was truly a religious experience. Green lights danced through the northern sky above me, and waves broke over the Ludington South Breakwater ahead of me as I tried to hike my way to the end of the pier without getting washed off. I was able to safely get no further than the bend in the pier. It was so windy I dared not extend the legs of my tripod. Instead I knelt down, mounted my camera on the low, sturdy tripod and began shooting. I was as pumped as a hunter with a 10-point buck standing in front of him. But the best was yet to come. About 20 minutes later, at 8:35 p.m., neon-red Northern Lights appeared and began rocketing up and down in the western sky. For fewer than two minutes, the sky was glorious and up to four times brighter than before and afterward. My camera recorded the peak of the color and brightness during this 30-second time exposure. The exposure also recorded a meteor (upper right) streaking through the sky. Technically, this image is not all it could be. I had made the switch from film to digital cameras only a couple years before this rare photo opportunity presented itself. Like many other longtime professional photographers, it would take time to master exposure with this new digital technology. Even though the image looked excellent on the electronic playback on back of the camera, it was underexposed by more than a stop. Since then, I have learned to better understand and rely on the camera’s histogram, which is a true output measure of exposure. In addition, the sensors on digital cameras have vastly improved, and newer models tend to render high quality images at higher ISOs than in the past. Even with the most modern digital photography marvels, one thing I know from experience: nothing is more important in photography than the proper exposure. Still, I am grateful to have made this less than perfect image of the most intense, colorful Northern Lights I have ever witnessed.

Legends Ranch Clover Field in Morning

Salmon Fishing in July Ludington

Holy Smoke

Brockway Mountain Drive at Sunrise

I had never traveled to the Presque Isle River through the south entrance of the Porcupine Mountains. Due to the time of year, we had to park a long way away. As Brad and I hiked in, we were slightly jealous of the many snowmobiles that we saw. The exhaustion was worth it. The view was priceless.

Pure Manistee

What is there about watching a seagull soar into the sunset that makes us want to trade places, if only for a short flight? I had that feeling one warm, sunny evening while watching this gull fly over Lake Michigan. But I have witnessed the opposite extreme--seagulls hunkering down on ice formations against wind, snow and cold on subzero mornings. Life as a seagull probably is seldom romantic; often it is a fight for survival.

Tranquil summer evenings on the Lake Michigan waterfront lure boats and people like fish to water. This late July evening in Pentwater was no exception. As in so many other favorite locations along the Lake Michigan shoreline, people and their vessels are drawn back year after year like salmon to their birthplaces.

Like ghost ships, the twin carferries Badger and Spartan emerge from the fog while docked in Ludington harbor. For as long as I can remember, I have loved viewing the ships at their docks or underway. Perhaps, the most fascinating aspect is seeing how dramatically changing light and atmosphere can change the view.

Friends had told me about a white horse pastured along old U.S. 31 between Ludington and Pentwater. On several photo trips in that direction I never saw the horse. As my son Brad and I drove to Pentwater one evening to photograph some summer scenes, I spotted a white horse. Undoubtedly, this was the horse and the scene that had excited others. I was thankful for the tips and the opportunity to make the photograph.

My dad and stepmom Debbie were at the Brooks and Dunn concert tonight at the DTE Energy Music Theatre so I was flying solo while teaching our 20/20 Vision Summer Workshop that we hold every Thursday in Ludington. Just as I was pointing out the two red streaks in the water from the reflection of the clouds, a sailboat passed near by. F2.8 at 1/250, ISO 640, 18-50 mm lens at 18 mm